Leah Lays London

I don’t have a blogroll, though I should. It’s one of the many things I haven’t gotten around to doing. In place of a list on the side, I will periodically write about my favorite sex bloggers.

One site I discovered recently belongs to Margot la Ravaudeuse. The prose is sexy and revealing. She has a knack for remembering details and incorporating them into her stories. The details build on top of each other. Her latest post includes the following.

• He always drove with a hand on my thigh, and I normally [had] mine folded on top of his.

• His hand crept up my thigh to the edge of my panties as I told him that I always wanted to fuck outside in broad daylight, and that I had never done it and was sad that I probably never would. As he traced the crease between my vulva and my inner thigh, I moved my hand over to his lap to discover a growing hardness.

• Simon pinched my thigh, and ran his hand under my wet panties. I rubbed his cock through his jeans. “Why don’t we stop here?” I pulled my panties down and off my ankles and over my sandal-covered feet.

The sex develops organically, with the conversation, with the ideas, with the closely observed, faithfully repeated particulars of the touches. The fucking itself is hot, on the metal hood of the green sedan. At the end of it, she tells: I was quickly panting and crying out, with my pussy squeezing him harder and leaking all over our hips. Simon stepped back and pulled out of me, and promptly came in ropes from my pubis to my sternum. He leaned over me for an instant; panting, sweating, and glowing. This isn’t really the end though. For that, you will have to visit the wildlife preserve.

Reading Margot, I can’t help but recollect my first time outside, by a small lake in an obscure state park, on a Tuesday afternoon when a friend and I played hooky from school. Travel back with me in time and memory. See a girl unclothed in the untamed grass. See a boy — see a man — equally nude and on his knees behind her.

The sun beats down, leaving my naked skin swimming in perspiration. The dirt paints my forearms and legs a deep chestnut brown. I have the smell of grass in my nostrils. I like the weight of the man on my back, how he clutches my breasts and uses them for purchase as he rides. I am the mare that he mounts. My hair whips laterally as the trot becomes a canter. He grabs hold of my shoulder. The cock reaches farther within. My back arches up. My head is thrown back, my throat exposed. I whinny at the pleasure of it. He fucks me faster. The canter becomes a gallop. I feel it in my thighs. Sweat plasters the locks to my forehead. I gnash my teeth. I bolt forward, barely restrained by the reins that he commands. He smacks my ass, causing me to neigh. He asks for more, and I give it. Blue sky whirling above, we are alone and racing hard to orgasm.

In his second e-mail, he sent a photograph of a buttplug that ended in a ten inch dog’s tail. He wanted me to be his dog girl. The scenario amused me far more than it turned me on, but I agreed to meet him for a cocktail Sunday evening and conversation. He was a charming man, a business professional, who was fully candid and disarming about his kink. We strolled through a park, both of us on our two feet. In a small copse of trees, he pressed his hands to my cheeks and kissed me. The touch of his lips over mine was tender and gentle. We negotiated play without the silicone tail.

Inside the apartment, he changed into a terry cloth bathrobe, and I stripped to my thigh high black stockings. He fastened a collar around my neck and attached a metal chain, and then I padded behind him on hands and knees while he took me for a walk through the apartment. While he sat in the arm chair, I crawled back to the bedroom to fetch his slippers and curled myself at his feet. He stroked my back. His fingers ruffled my hair and worked thoroughly over my scalp. He scratched behind the ears and then had me play fetch with a red chew toy. I nosed at his feet, kissed the tendons on top, tongued the ankle.

Drawing apart the bathrobe, I stuck out my tongue and pretended to salivate at the prospect of placing his stiff penis in my mouth. He had me lick his balls first, as dogs are wont to do, and then he pressed the glans to my lips. I was on my knees, with my hands resting on his thighs, while I fellated him. The soft tug of the lead told me when he wanted me to go faster and when he wanted me to slow down. His moans showed me what he liked. The blowjob lasted fifteen or twenty minutes, and I touched myself while I pleasured him. His semen tasted salty and pure.

As it was dark, he turned off the lights in the apartment and took me onto the balcony, naked, where he poured water for me in a dog bowl, and looped the lead around the railing at the edge. He set out food as well, but as this wasn’t my kink, I laughed and shook my head, no; he didn’t press.

Once he had regained his erection, we went indoors and fucked. He took me doggy style, of course. His hand wrapped the chain, and he tugged on the lead fiercely, as though controlling an unruly canine. The chain went around my shoulder, so that the jerk on my neck wasn’t too pronounced — evidently, he had given this fantasy some thought, or had previous experience. He had me bark and woof, which I did amid the guffaws. The man was almost as amused by the absurdity of the situation as I was, which was the only reason that any of this worked.

Elbows buckling to the ground, I moaned on his living room carpet while the erection sliced through the waters of my cunt. In it went the whole way, and back out again nearly to the tip. He slapped my ass cheeks and made me sweat. I scratched at the carpet and, on my own, howled while he fucked me. He lasted about ten minutes in my pussy before he came.

As I was cleaning up in the bathroom, an idea occurred to me suddenly. I summoned the man to join me and crawled into the tub, where I raised one leg and peed. He stood transfixed. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting this. The erection grew to prominence before my face.

He raised a bath and insisted on washing me up. I peeled the stockings off and returned to the tub, where he took a soapy sponge and wiped every square inch of my body. His attention concentrated on the most sensitive bits. After that, I had a boner to gnaw on.